


I Just Called To Say I Love You

by howlhowl



Category: The Libertines
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlhowl/pseuds/howlhowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>phone calls are hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Called To Say I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> another ancient piece (september 2004)  
> it was supposed to have a sequel from the carlos' point of view but.. i never finished it / lost the notes / whatever. i did start writing it definitely? who knows. 
> 
> here's my original notes:  
> this is not a happy fic. but....  
> thanks to,  
> gin gin for the idea and feedback  
> spaniel for feedback  
> jodi for the beta, xx  
> this was written mostly written at work, partly at the back of a tractor.  
> (and in the tradition of shit titles..)

peter watched the smoke as it curled up the stale indoor air. the room smelled like ciggies, whiskey stains on the carpet and like the window hadn't been opened in years. he stared at the scribbles on the opposite wall; they were too far to read though. he sucked on his cigarette and followed the smoke again with his tired brown eyes. he picked up the paper cup by his side half full of cheap red wine, took a sip, let the warm liquid roll on his tongue like the R's do when in paris as the parisians do, or when he rolled carlos' name off his tongue as a tease. fuck. carlos. he wasn't there. he hadn't seen or talked to him since he had left for thailand. oh, he'd rather not think about thailand, those herbs that had made him violently ill, like he was going to break into pieces, burst into flames, fall apart, all at the same time, that hotel with bacon and eggs with skag on the side and a cup of tea.

"fuck. stop thinking about that."

there was a random girl sitting next to peter. he didn't know her name. she might've said it at some point but it hadn't stuck to his head at all. she was a slender model type in ripped blue jeans, as they all were, and a pink top covered by brown pinstripe jacket. she was young, maybe seventeen, sucking on her menthol cigarette trying to look like she wasn't the greenest thing ever to be sitting on his floor drinking and smoking. he wasn't sure why she was there. she had turned up at his door earlier with a bottle of wine and some half hearted excuse he had already forgotten, if he even had listened proper in the first place. "i was in the neighbourhood and thought..." which had been a blatant lie, not in this neighbourhood. but, he had been alone, which was something he didn't want to be at all, so he had invited her in, her eyes sparkling starstruck. He sipped on more wine, stained the teeth red, inhaled a bit more of nicotine and tar, clogged up the fuckin' lungs.

carlos. fuck. his best mate, better half and they hadn't talked in days, weeks, months? he had stopped counting them, to keep the fact off his mind. even still, he was plagued by carlos' absence in his life. he had sent him about a million text messages from various phones - he had lost his own again and again, the scatterbrain he was - called just as many timed but never had there been an answer. peter cringed. didn't biggles love him anymore? didn't he realise how much pain he was causing peter by not talking to him, by cutting him off like that. again. so, he had his reasons, but why wouldn't he even have a listen to what peter wanted to say. how else would he prove he was changing, that he had changed? he took another drag from his fag and decided "fuck, i'm gonna call him now."

"can i borrow your phone?" he asked the girl. "i need to call biggles."

she nodded nervously as if she was honoured and in a hurry to serve his every whim. she handed the phone to peter's open hand, one of those new shiny things that opened like a little book of phone numbers, addresses and secret messages. he thanked her politely and excused himself to the kitchen; he had to do this in private. he would've thrown the girl out but it would've be rude, especially with her phone in his hand, not that such things would've bothered him on some occasions, but now that he was sober, with the clearest head in a long time, no more a selfish little junkie not so soft lad. okay, so he had hit the good olde pipey the night before, but that was the last, he was on the road to clarity and he just wanted to tell carlos this. maybe leave out the mini martell bottles. yeah. definitely. he wouldn't understand it. just a little white lie, no, just leaving out some not so vital information was in order. he just wanted him back in his life. bigelles aboard the good ship albion. he missed his partner in arms.

he felt the tears gathering in his eyes. he took the phone that he had put down on the table, flipped it open, dialled the number he knew by heart and raised it to his ear and lips. it was ringing.

"please biggles, pick up. i know you're there. i want you back, i love you", he was thinking as he waited.

carlos should've picked it up already. the other end of the phone sounded more like "fuck off, i don't want to speak to you, give it up you stupid cunt" than "please wait, i'll be right there'. a tear started rolling down peter's cheek as he started to get more frustrated.

"fuck. pick up carlos! c'mon don't you love me?" he mumbled to himself through his teeth, his grip on the phone tightening and almost crushing the defenseless piece of plastic.

no answer. he threw the phone into the kitchen wall. it cracked into two pieces but he barely noticed, he just paced around the tiny room. he tried to anxiously run his fingers through his hair forgetting it wasn't long enough, since he had shaved it few months back for the summer.

"why, why, oh why?" he mumbled desperately to himself, not noticing the girl in the doorway, probably there having heard the sound of cheap plastic hitting the concrete wall and come to check on her precious walkie talkie.

she coughed.

peter stopped pacing and said, "What?"

his voice was tense, angry, ready for a full blown stroppiness. she had never heard this tone in his voice, how could she have since she had known only known him for the few hours she had been there, after turning up randomly wishing for a piece of that magic they called peter fuckin doherty in her life.

she backed up from the door, scared, hanging her head as she mumbled "err... my phone... i heard a sound.. sorry."

peter snapped out of it.

"oh, sorry."

the girl saw the shattered phone on the floor.

"oh."

"he didn't answer."

"i see," the girl said, but pete knew she didn't. how could she really?

she came in and gathered the pieces of her phone and said "i think i better go," when she should've been having a fuckin' fit.

as she tried to exit the kitchen, peter grabbed her arm.

"please don't."

he didn't want to be alone; it was a place where boredom and all his horrible demons crept up on him. it was something he was sure he couldn't handle, and, this girl, she seemed nice and calm, like she'd keep him out of trouble, at least until she'd leave despite his pleads or he'd throw her out. he just didn't want to be alone. the girl looked at him, deep into his bambi eyes with her clear blue eyes and thought about it, lowering her eyes again, as if to not let those eyes manipulate her decision.

"ok," she said and threw her skinny arms around peter's waist. he was only wearing his tattered jeans, the ones that said carlos loves me and a white fred perry sports jacket. her cheek was cold against his bare chest at first but then soft and warm as she didn't let go and he wrapped his arms around her. she seemed almost like a part of him. she absently kissed his clammy skin, and he knew it was only a replacement, a temporary comfort, not the real fucking thing. not even close. but he didn't care. at least he wouldn't be as abandoned, deserted in the real world as he was in his head.


End file.
